


Meaning

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein
Genre: After Gander, F/M, First Dates, Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, Language of Flowers, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Diane's been seeing Nick in Dallas for weeks - at least, she thinks she has. This time it is definitely him - and he's coming out of a florist. What on earth is going on?
Relationships: Nick/Diane
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Meaning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not RPF  
> While Nick and Diane in the musical are based on real people, this story is set strictly in the fictional representation of them in the musical, ‘Come From Away’. I haven’t done any research into their personal lives, and anything further than what is canon in the musical is completely made up, with the exception of some geographical details. This is not intended to represent the real life couple in any way, their thoughts, attitudes or actions. It’s just my brain saying, ‘what if?’, as it does to every story that resonates with me.

Glancing up, Diane froze before forcing herself to relax. She had been seeing Nick everywhere since she’d returned from Gander, and by now it was second nature to stop herself before she could get too worked up. He was in London. She was in Dallas. It wasn’t him. It was never him, and she’d embarrassed herself several times running after strange men, walking into shops and once crossing the road without looking. This time, she made herself count to five before looking back.

He was still standing in front of the florist, the slight frown as he thought familiar enough to make Diane’s heart race.

_It can’t be him._

Diane stood, forcing herself to breathe, watching as the man walked into the florist. It wouldn’t be him. Why would he be walking into a florist in Dallas, for goodness sake? They’d spoken only a few days ago, and Nick hadn’t mentioned anything about travelling. Their conversation had been a little stilted, as it had been lately, but surely he would have mentioned if he’d been coming to her hometown?

However long she’d stood there, Diane didn’t know, but suddenly Nick was leaving the florist. He still looked uncertain; the hesitance on his face was exactly the same as it had been in Gander, and when he lifted one hand to adjust his glasses, she knew it was him. Those mannerisms were so imprinted on her mind she knew she wasn’t making a mistake.

_Oh my God, it is him._

Before she could think about how to approach him, a cab pulled up and he climbed in, the wheels barely stopping before it accelerated away again and she was left staring at the empty sidewalk.

What had just happened?

Diane blinked. Her mind whirled, but this time she was certain it was him, so the decision was easy. She had to try and find out what he was doing. Checking the traffic, she crossed the road, heart thumping as she entered the shop.

A young woman smiled at her as she approached the counter.

“Can I help you?”

“Hello,” Diane said, trying to smile. “I think a friend of mine was just in here. He’s tall, and English and…I just wondered if he ordered something?”

The florist’s friendly expression changed, her smile shifting a little more into customer service mode. “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss our customer’s orders,” she said. “If the man you described is your friend, I suggest you ask him if he was here.”

Diane looked at her, helplessness washing through her. “Please,” she said, hating how emotional she sounded. “I can’t…he lives in London. I don’t know how to contact him here.”

“I’m sorry,” the florist said, though she looked a little more sympathetic. “We’ve had problems in the past, giving out information about orders. People sending flowers to friends or lovers without their partners knowing. It’s just not something I can discuss with you.”

Diane nodded, feeling her eyes well with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered. Just as she was about to turn away, an idea came to her. “Wait,” she said. Pulling out her driver’s licence, she slid it across the counter. “Nick and I met in Canada. In September, when our plane was diverted after…what happened. In New York. I kissed him on the plane back to Dallas, but,” she drew a shaky breath, “he lives in London. I didn’t know he was going to be in Dallas…” Diane tapped her licence, swallowing hard. “Can you just tell me if he ordered something for me? Please?”

The woman looked at Diane, her eyes wide. For a long moment Diane thought she was going to refuse, but then she flicked her gaze down to the licence. She didn’t speak, but pulled a folder from under the desk, opening it to the first page – the most recent order.

“What’s his name?” she asked Diane.

“Nick Marson,” Diane said. Her heart was pounding hard as the woman’s eyes read over the details of the order she had only just taken.

“If this Mr. Marson did place an order,” the florist said carefully, “and it was for someone whose details matched these,” she pushed Diane’s licence back across the desk, “I would recommend you’d be at home today at four o’clock.”

“Four o’clock?” Diane repeated.

“He was very insistent,” she said. She was clearly holding back a smile by now. “Paid extra to have that exact delivery time.”

Diane nodded. “Thank you,” she said. Her heart was pounding, matching the pace of her mind as it raced. Four o’clock, of course…

“Can I ask,” the florist said, biting her lip, “if you don’t mind me asking why four o’clock?”

Diane smiled, feeling the emotion rise in her throat. “He calls me at four o’clock on Tuesdays,” she managed. “After he gets home from work.”

“Oh,” the woman whispered. She nodded. “Well…I hope you like what he chose.” Her expression was soft now. “He was…very certain of the message he wanted to send. Insisted on writing the card himself.”

“Okay,” Diane said. “Thank you.”

They shared another smile before Diane left, walking back to her car on autopilot. She sat behind the wheel, flexing her fingers as her brain whirled. It was Nick. He was in Dallas. But why hadn’t he told her he was coming? Was he here for work? It was – she checked her watch – just past midday, so he could conceivably be working, on his lunchbreak. And he was clearly aware of where she lived, so why hadn’t he let her know he was coming? And what message could he be sending…with flowers?

The thoughts continued to plague her all afternoon. Hours dragged past as Diane filled them with tasks, things that required her hands to be busy while her mind could wonder again and again what was happening with Nick. Their conversation recently had been more stilted; the quiet moments were more difficult as she wanted to say things that she simply didn’t have the words to explain without feeling foolish. Nick didn’t say anything, and Diane often wondered if they were sitting on opposite sides of the ocean, the same fear holding back the same words.

It was yet another question she couldn’t bring herself to ask him.

The hands of her kitchen clock moved slowly, and at half past three Diane finally made herself a mug of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, giving up on dusting the keepsakes on the mantle. She was exhausted, the constant movement draining her of energy. If she hadn’t been so tense she would have lay down, but the time ticked along as her eyes tracked the endless trail of the second hand, winding her up as it closed the gap until four o’clock.

With two minutes to go, there was a knock at the door.

Diane started, so engrossed in watching the hand approach the hour she hadn’t considered the early arrival. She stood, tipping out the cold coffee and smoothing her shirt as she approached the front door. Someone was waiting, but Diane’s eyes were fixed on the flowers rather than the person.

“Diane Grey?” the voice asked, and she nodded automatically.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the arrangement. He may have said something else but she was too busy with the flowers, bringing them inside and settling them on her entrance table. The arrangement was a riot of soft pink and white and red, the perfume gentle and sweet as the blossoms stirred in the air. She let her eyes linger over the perfect petals for a few moments, breath catching in her throat at the thought that Nick had chosen these for her only a few hours earlier.

As she turned the arrangement to examine the far side, a square of white caught her eye. Of course there would be a card. If she hadn’t seen Nick, she wouldn’t have known it was from him. And the florist told her he’d written it himself. Diane’s name was penned on the envelope, and her finger traced the letters. It was the first time she’d seen her name written in Nick’s handwriting, and for some reason it was important.

Her fingers trembled as she tore open the back of the envelope. The envelope Nick sealed only a few hours ago, only a few miles from here.

_Diane,_

_Forgive me for not telling you, but I find myself in Dallas. I would very much like to take you to dinner this evening. If you are free, please leave a message for me at Rydges’ Hotel reception. I look forward to seeing you._

_Best, Nick_

She blinked at the message, finding tears welling inconveniently in her eyes as she tried to focus. Nick’s words, Nick’s handwriting; it was somehow far more personal than the words actually implied. Short of life saving medical treatment she would cancel anything to be able to meet him this evening.

“Hello?” she said, when someone picked up the phone. “I’d like to leave a message for Nick Marson, please.”

“Certainly, what name please?”

“Diane Grey,” Diane replied.

“And your message?” the receptionist asked.

She hesitated. “Yes,” she said. “My message is, ‘Yes’.” She wasn’t sure what else to add.

“Mister Marson has left a reply,” the receptionist said, and Diane could hear the smile in her voice. “In anticipation of your message in the affirmative, he would like to confirm that he will pick you up at half past seven at your house.”

“That is fine,” Diane confirmed, wondering if her voice sounded as faint to the receptionist as it did to her.

“I will pass it on when Mister Marson comes in.”

“Thank you,” Diane said. She hung up, taking a second to breathe deeply before she realised what this meant. Nick would be here. In three hours. She only had three hours to get ready. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Nick was going to be _here._

Looking at the flowers, the florist’s voice echoed in her head.

_He was…very certain of the message he wanted to send._

The message. Diane knew that flowers had meaning, but short of ‘red roses for romance’, she didn’t have a working knowledge of any other kinds. Hesitantly, she picked up the phone again, calling the number printed on the box.

“Welcome to Blossoms, how can I help you?” a familiar voice answered.

“Hello, this is Diane Grey,” Diane said. “I received a delivery from you a few minutes ago?”

“Of course,” the florist said. “Can I help you with something?”

Diane hesitated. “Well, I’m not entirely sure what kind of flowers these are,” she said. “And I think…you said Nick chose them for their message.”

“Yes,” came the reply. “Let me just check…yes. We agreed a mix of peonies, matthiola, Peruvian lilies, and carnations would be right. With some foliage for background.”

“And what was the message?” Diane asked, heart in her throat.

“Peonies for bashful romance, matthiola incana for beauty that doesn’t fade, tulips for perfect love, Peruvian lilies for friendship and devotion, and carnations for fascination and new love,” the florist told her. The words were professional but Diane could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh,” Diane whispered. Had Nick decided on all those? She wanted to hear them all again, but it wouldn’t matter – the overall message was clear.

_Tonight is a date._

“Are you there?” the florist said.

“I’m here,” Diane said.

“Are you alright?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, thank you,” Diane replied. “Thank you for your time.”

She hung up, finger brushing one of the petals again. This was definitely a date. And from the sound of it, the same unsaid words in her mind were echoing through Nick’s too. She wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or terrifying. Either way, she had to get ready to face him that very evening.

+++

In comparison to the afternoon, the three hours before Nick arrive disappeared like snowflakes in a desert. Diane spent far too long deciding on an outfit (this was a date, but how dressed up should she be, exactly? Would she be cold in that dress? Were heels a necessity?), in the shower (conditioner instead of shampoo, twice in a row), then fussing with her makeup. When she finally felt ready – or as ready as she was going to get – the clock told her it was twenty-five past seven. A last check in the mirror and run through her handbag and she was done. Her favourite perfume swirled around her, and the familiar feel of the necklace David had given her for Christmas last year made her a little more confident. Whatever his intentions, Nick had wanted to spend time with her even when they were sleeping on cots in a primary school, so hopefully he wouldn’t judge her too harshly here.

When the doorbell rang, Diane gasped, even though she was expecting it. Nick was here, standing on her porch. She picked up her bag, checked she had her keys, and headed for the entrance, her heels clicking on the floorboards at half the speed of her racing heart.

When she opened the door, she was half expecting it to be someone else, but it was not. Nick stood there, hand raised to his face to adjust his glasses in the same gesture she’d recognised as unequivocally _him_ earlier that afternoon. He looked good, she thought dimly, eyes locked on his when he settled on her face.

“Hello, Nick,” she said as the cool evening air washed over her.

“Hello,” he replied, a nervous smile dancing around his mouth. He looked exactly as she remembered; eyes kind and blue as the sky, hands folded in front of him, showing the nervousness he was trying to hide. It sparked the same pang of affection here as it had in Gander. With a thud Diane realised she was still as attracted to him as she’d ever been, and the weeks apart had done nothing to diminish that. The brief thought had crossed her mind once or twice that she might have been remembering him differently, but as they stood looking at each other across the threshold of her house, she knew her mind had not been exaggerating.

“I…it’s good to see you,” Diane said, knowing the words sounded awkward. They were patently untrue as well; the most under of possible understatements. Seeing Nick in person was like coming home. An anxiety she hadn’t even known was pulsing in her eased just knowing he was close. The desire to touch him, to connect physically no matter how platonically, was almost overwhelming.

“And you,” Nick replied. He rocked forward, as though shifting his weight but stopping himself and Diane wondered if he had been going to kiss her in greeting. His eyes flashed uncertainty and she felt a shaft of disappointment when he did not.

Before she could get too upset he stepped closer, a wash of cologne preceding him. Diane’s eyes were on him and she didn’t see his hand stretch forward to take hers, sweeping it up to kiss her knuckles before she knew what he was doing. Nick’s eyes never left hers and she knew he saw her jaw drop at the contact. The gasp fell from her mouth as his lips brushed her skin, a more intimate contact than she’d dared even hope for. He lingered there, the expression in his eyes burning hot for a moment before he lowered her hand again, straightening once more.

“Shall we?” he murmured, restrained and chivalrous once again. “The taxi is waiting for us.”

“Yes,” Diane replied, swallowing hard. He was such a contradiction, she thought dazedly, locking the door behind herself and stepping down to the path alongside Nick. They sat together in the back of the cab, Diane aware of the space between them as much as the presence of the driver. She didn’t know what to ask him. Everything seemed potentially loaded, complex conversations stemming even from innocuous questions such as, ‘how long have you been in town?’ and ‘are you here for work?’ Neither seemed right to bring up here, so she contented herself with looking out the window, wondering where they were going and restraining herself from reaching for his hand.

The cab finally pulled up at a restaurant with which Diane wasn’t familiar. _Rosemary Wine_. She wasn’t even all that sure where they were; for her window gazing she hadn’t paid a lot of attention to where they were going. Somewhere downtown, probably. She took Nick’s arm as they entered, suppressing a raised eyebrow at the quiet romance of the restaurant. It was clearly expensive, and clearly somewhere you didn’t show up in jeans and a sweatshirt; she was glad she’d opted for more fancy rather than less when choosing her dress.

“Mister Marson,” the host greeted them, leading them to one of the carefully placed tables. The strategic use of plants and screens allowed almost every table a degree of privacy, and once they were seated Diane felt like they might almost be alone, just the two of them and the silent wait staff bringing breadsticks and water for their table.

“Thank you for joining me tonight,” Nick said. They were sitting at adjacent sides of the square table, and Diane could feel his knee close, though it wasn’t touching hers. Was she really so aware of him? Their lack of conversation in the cab only served to stretch the tension between them, and she felt as awkward as any first date.

“I didn’t know you were going to be in town,” Diane said, deciding impulsively to just say it.

Guilt immediately flooded Nick’s face and Diane wanted to take it back. “I’m sorry,” he said, immediately covering her hand with his own. He frowned a little. “I wasn’t sure…I didn’t want to impose. If you…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to see me, only to regret agreeing by the time the day came around.”

“Is that why you sent the flowers this afternoon?” Diane asked, a little distracted by the weight of his hand on hers. “So I could decide at the last minute?”

“Yes,” Nick said, obviously relieved that she understood his motivation. “I didn’t want to lie to you. Again, I apologise.”

“It’s fine,” Diane told him. “I understand.” She paused. “When did you know you’d be coming?”

Before Nick could answer a waiter glided up to the table. “Good evening,” he murmured. “Might I interest you in a drink to begin?”

They turned their attention to the drinks list, Nick deferring to Diane’s choice of soda and lime. They ordered their meals at the same time, and Diane wondered if Nick was hoping for some uninterrupted conversation time as well.

“Thank you,” Diane said, as the waiter left with their menus and orders. She turned to Nick, wishing he hadn’t withdrawn his hand to gesture to the waiter.

“I found out I was coming on Thursday,” Nick said. He smiled a little, adding, “My first impulse was to call you and tell you.”

Diane smiled back, heart fluttering at the idea. “But you didn’t,” she said, careful to keep judgement out of her voice.

Nick didn’t speak, the tiny furrow of his brow telling Diane he was considering his words. “I wanted to,” he said. “I almost did when we spoke on Friday evening.” He paused. “I fear I was difficult conversation that evening.”

“It was different,” Diane agreed. She took a deep breath, reaching out to take Nick’s hand where he was playing with his knife. “I thought it was me.”

“You?” Nick repeated. His hand left the knife immediately, turning to curl it into Diane’s.

Diane nodded, unsure if she should tell him of the mental calendar she had been keeping. “As of yesterday it was sixty four days,” she admitted with some trepidation. “Since we had seen each other.”

There was no hiding his reaction; the indrawn breath, raised eyebrows, the clench of his fingers. Nick’s surprise at her words assailed her senses. She wasn’t sure if it was a good reaction or not, until the reflexive grip on her fingers remained and his wide eyes softened into unmistakable fondness.

“You’ve been keeping count,” he said quietly.

“I have,” she admitted. “It’s…something I’m aware of. Every day.”

“Me too,” Nick said. “Though I’m not sure I’ve kept an exact tally.”

Diane felt her face heat, and she shrugged, looking down at their joined hands.

“That’s not a criticism,” Nick told her. His thumb was stroking the back of her hand now, a slow rhythm that blossomed warmth across her hand and up her arm. She nodded, but didn’t say anything. It felt like she’d shared something vulnerable and she wasn’t sure how he’d reacted or more to the point, how she felt about how he reacted.

Their drinks arrived, neither speaking until the waiter disappeared again. Nick dropped her hand to pick up his glass, and Diane wished irrationally that one of them was left handed so they could hold hands at the same time.

“A toast?” Nick asked.

“Sure,” Diane said. “Whatever you like.”

He held his glass carefully, eyes considering on her, until he raised his hand with the quiet words, “To seeing each other again.”

Diane smiled. “Cheers,” she said, touching the edge of her glass to his. “You know, I can’t imagine not wanting to see you. If you find out you’re coming back. To Dallas.”

Nick nodded, sipping at his drink. Diane had the impression he was taking a moment before responding and she hoped her honesty wasn’t too forward.

“Neither can I.” His words were quiet, but the sincerity behind them was clear. Their smiles matched when they both reached across the table for each other, and Diane felt her heart flip as their hands connected.

“So you’re working?” Diane asked. Now that he was here, and they’d made it through that first awkward conversation, it felt easier.

“Yes,” Nick replied. “Another conference. The same one, really, they just moved the date.”

Diane nodded. “And your boss still isn’t keen on you slowing down your travel?”

“Well,” Nick replied, his fingers stroking Diane’s once before resettling, “no.”

There was something else there, some kind of hesitancy; Diane paused, then asked carefully, “But?”

“But,” Nick said, his eyes meeting hers, “I haven’t exactly asked again.”

“Why not?” Diane frowned. Nick had been quiet adamant when they were in Gander that he didn’t want to travel as much. In fact his doctor had insisted he travel less. What had changed?

“Our company is expanding,” Nick explained. “The first meeting I had when I returned, my boss told me my role was going to be split – I’d be given the choice to handle Europe or North America.”

“Oh,” Diane said. She wasn’t quite sure why this was as significant as Nick was making it sound.

“If I handle North America,” Nick said, “My travel will be mostly to Dallas.”

“Okay,” Diane said. Her heart was beating faster, and she knew what she wanted that to mean – but was it right?

“And I have a reason to want to visit Dallas now,” Nick said. “If you really do want to see me when I’m here. I won’t hold you to that. I mean, if you’re busy, or you’d rather not, I’d understand.”

Diane’s heart soared, and her fingers curled more tightly around his. “I know you would,” she said, “but I told you, I can’t imagine not wanting to see you.”

He smiled, the relief on his face. “Good,” he said, “because I’ve drafted an email to accept North America.”

They sat in the quiet for a moment. Nick had chosen Dallas. For her. It felt significant somehow, and the warmth inside Diane melted through her.

“So,” Nick said finally, “how’s David doing?”

Their conversation started again, building slowly until it felt like those two months hadn’t even passed. The easy atmosphere they’d shared in Gander returned, words flowing between them as they spoke and ate. There was a new level to their unspoken communication. Looks lingered, and while they had to separate their hands to be able to eat, Diane found her fingers lingering on his arm when he said something funny, and a spark coursed through her hand when his fingers brushed hers after she’d complimented him, too.

It was like a date with her best friend.

The only thing she was aware of was the avoidance of anything too deep. Nick knew a little of her difficulty returning to life after Gander, and she’d had a glimpse into the shift from alone to lonely in his own life, but neither had shared too much or asked the other to go into it too deeply. Diane wondered if Nick was as aware of it as she was. It didn’t detract from the evening though, and when they finally agreed to share a dessert, Diane’s mind jumped ahead.

_What after this?_

Would Nick drive her home? Should she ask him in for coffee? More dessert? More…something? Her face flushed at the ideas, though she knew it wasn’t the first time she’d contemplated asking Nick in, drawing him up the stairs with her, waking in his arms…

“Diane?” Nick’s voice broke through, and she looked up, fork hovering over the chocolate torte they’d agreed to share.

“Sorry,” she said, knowing her cheeks were still pink. “What were you saying?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to walk down to the Art Precinct after we’ve eaten,” Nick said. “I’ve heard it’s quite interesting when it’s lit up at night.”

“Of course,” Diane replied. She ate a bite of the cake, but despite how good it tasted her stomach was full of butterflies. “I don’t think I need any more to eat, actually.”

“Shall we go, then?” Nick asked, putting down his fork.

They paid their bill and Diane felt Nick’s hand in the small of her back as they stepped out of the restaurant. The small gesture of chivalry sent a thrill through her – it was exactly the kind of thing she’d missed about him. The little things she never saw anymore, that made her feel seen. Special. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time – or wanted to feel, really.

The air was a little chilly, but her shawl was enough once she took Nick’s arm. The atmosphere between them was warm, and when she turned her head to look up at him, the smile broke over his face felt like another flow of warm air.

“What?” he murmured, and she could feel the word rumble through him.

“I was just thinking,” Diane said, “how unexpected this evening has been.”

“What would you have been doing?” Nick asked. “If I hadn’t been here?”

Diane considered the question. She felt that her answer might inform the direction of their conversation. How honest should she be? They walked for a little further, crossing the Avenue and making their way down to the first of the installations.

“It’s Tuesday,” she said. “I don’t work on Tuesdays. I have lunch with David, I do groceries, then,” she shrugged, embarrassed to admit it even to Nick, “I don’t do anything. Apart from speak with you.”

He frowned, not understanding. “So, nothing particular?” he asked.

“No,” Diane said, stopping at the railing. She couldn’t meet his eye, looking out over the darkness. It reminded her of the view from the bus in Gander…no. Not now. She took a deep breath. “I make a cup of tea, and I just…don’t do anything. Wait for the sun to go down, perhaps. Sometimes I put on the television for company. For a while I would try to read, but concentrating was difficult.”

“And is that…just on Tuesdays?” Nick asked carefully.

“No,” Diane whispered. She felt Nick standing close. “We talked about it, do you remember? How different it was being back in real life after Gander?” She shrugged self-consciously. “I just don’t think I ever really found where I fit in again.”

“What did you used to do?” Nick asked.

“Oh, I had my book club, crosswords, the walking group, work,” Diane replied. “Plenty to keep me busy, but it all felt,” she shrugged, not sure of the right words. “I wasn’t sure why I had been doing it all. I couldn’t see the point now.”

_Not with you so far away._

She couldn’t say the words. Wondered if Nick could tell that was what she meant.

“What about other nights?” Nick asked.

“Well, you call on Tuesdays and Fridays,” Diane said. “Those nights…I wait for the phone to ring.” She didn’t add that she usually did her makeup for the phone call, and when they’d hung up, often took herself to bed to replay their words to herself until she fell asleep. “Otherwise…” she shrugged. She trusted Nick, but even admitting to this made her feel vulnerable. Fragile.

He eased closer, and Diane turned into him, her arms winding around his waist. This was what she had wanted to do in Gander but had been too wary to attempt. Now, it felt grounding to feel him so close, reassuring her it was not a dream at all. His cologne swirled in the cool air, and Diane hoped it would linger on her clothes.

“Do you remember that lookout?” Nick said suddenly. “With all the stairs?”

“The Dover Fault,” Diane said immediately. “Yes.”

“I wanted to stand with you like this,” Nick said. “Up there.”

Diane drew a deep, shaking breath. “Me too,” she whispered. They didn’t move for a long time, until she finally added, “I miss you a lot. Every day.”

Nick didn’t respond, but it didn’t matter. Diane wasn’t asking him to agree with her, she just wanted him to know.

“I haven’t had a lot of time outside of my job in the last few years,” Nick said. “Most hours were taken up with work.” He stopped, breathing again before adding, “I didn’t realise how many of those hours were unnecessary until I stepped back. Started leaving at six, when the rest of my floor was empty. If the company wasn’t going to help with my heart condition, my doctor said I really had to cut back.” He paused. “So I did. And nobody noticed.”

“Nobody noticed?” Diane repeated.

“I stopped double checking projects, reviewing budgets for my office…redundant tasks, as it turned out,” Nick explained. He sounded regretful, Diane thought, pressing her cheek into his shoulder.

“So you’ve been home earlier,” Diane said. “What have you been doing?”

She expected to hear him say he’d picked up some long discarded pastime, or taken up something for which there had never been enough hours.

“Nothing,” he replied with such straightforward honesty Diane was floored.

“Nothing?” she repeated.

Nick shrugged, his self-consciousness so similar to her own it made her soul ache. “I had my piano tuned,” he admitted. “But I…couldn’t see the point. In practicing again.”

He didn’t have to explain. His words were echoing her own, and she vividly remembered the waves of hopelessness that overcame her at the idea of putting effort into something. It was only last night she sat in her kitchen, watching curls of steam rise from her mug of tea and wondering how early was too early to retire to bed. Having yet another conversation in which she talked herself out of the urge to see her doctor and ask for something to help her sleep. Not because she couldn’t get to sleep but because she wanted to go to bed so much earlier than she was really ready.

“I know what you mean,” Diane said quietly.

They stood in the dark, their shared understanding a tenuous link to something deeper than neither was quite ready to voice. Diane knew it was more, that it was connected to her distance from Nick, but she wasn’t yet sure how to put it into words. And her fear was still sharp enough to keep too much raw honesty from falling from her lips. It fought with her increasing desire to find out exactly where she and Nick stood, if his experience in Gander had had the same effect on his life as it had hers. She could feel the balance slowly tipping, and wondered how soon it would be before it tipped over.

A cool breeze came along the water’s edge and the shiver moved through both of them.

“We should get back,” Nick murmured.

Diane nodded, and they turned together, walking slowly hand in hand. Diane was walking as close to Nick as she could, wanting to hold onto this evening as long as possible. She didn’t know how long he was in Dallas – neither had brought it up. She didn’t want to know if he would be gone tomorrow. This evening was a special type of magic and she didn’t want to taint it with the inevitable sadness of certainty if he was leaving tomorrow.

She stood quietly while Nick hailed a cab, sliding in before him as he gave her address. The ride back was as quiet as that out, words as difficult as they had been those hours before. Now that the evening was ending and they had not discussed what came next, their easy conversation dried up.

When they pulled up, Nick stepped out, holding the door for her, and Diane’s heart started hard again as he bade the driver wait for him. Of course he would not presume to stay; but her moment to ask him in was here, and she had no idea how to go about it.

“Thank you for this evening,” Diane said as they reached her door. “It was lovely to see you.” The words were the most terrible understatement, and as her eyes met Nick’s, she hoped he could see the truth.

_I’ve been missing you terribly._

_I’ll miss you again tomorrow._

_I don’t want you to go._

“I’m glad you came,” Nick replied. He was standing close, his hands folded as he did when he was nervous. His eyes were searching hers, soft enough to make her swallow.

When he spoke again, the surprise that flashed in his eyes made it clear the words were blurted without a plan.

“I’ve missed you terribly.”

Diane felt her eyes widen at the admission, followed by a rush of affection as she reached for him. More than affection, she thought to herself, but Nick shifted and her ability to analyse stuttered to a halt as his hand slid up along her jaw, tilting her face up so he could kiss her. His mouth pressed to hers, firm and with the shadow of desperation. Diane felt herself freeze for half a second before she pressed back, arms winding around him as she kissed him.

The whimper in her throat was loud, but she didn’t care; it was such a relief to be kissing Nick again. Her memory had been accurate. _Thank God._ It felt familiar, his mouth moving on hers, the feel of his hand cupping the back of his head. She could taste the chocolate torte and smell the cologne that had tantalised her all evening. It ramped up her senses and every stroke of his mouth felt like silk, coaxing more sounds from her as she clung to him. Her arms were tight around him, but the rest of her body felt liquid, melted by the overwhelming sense of _Nick Nick Nick_ all around her.

When he eased away, Diane chased him; her mouth trailed messily across his cheek, settling right before his ear, and the gasp it elicited sent a bolt through her.

She wanted to invite him in. She wanted him to follow her up the stairs, to tumble with her onto the bed…

“Diane,” he managed, and with every ounce of self-control, Diane eased back. Her heart was thumping and she could feel the breath harsh in her throat. Given how close she was to Nick’s ear she wondered briefly if he could hear it over his own.

With a final deep breath, Diane opened her eyes, blinking as the sight before her came into focus. Nick looked at frazzled as she felt. His eyes were wide, pupils blown as he blinked back at her, obviously still processing as she was. Diane let her eyes drift down, locking on his mouth. Parted lips, tempting where they disappeared into the wet darkness of his mouth, and swollen from their kisses. Diane couldn’t help swallowing hard.

“Nick,” she said, and the words formed in her head, ready to fall out into the air between them.

A car horn sounded, brash behind them and they both started. Nick’s cab was waiting.

“I have to go,” he blurted, and she was astonished to see the panic in his eyes. “I…I’ll be in touch. Tomorrow. I promise. 12 o’clock?”

Diane nodded, confused at the change of direction.

Nick looked at her as though he wanted to say something, but he pressed his lips together, holding it in and instead nodding before he spun, walking briskly down to the waiting cab. Door open, door closed, and it took off…and he was gone.

Diane blinked into the sudden quiet darkness. She was alone again.

What on earth had happened?

On autopilot, she found her keys and let herself in, securing the door before heading upstairs. There was so much to think about. Their conversation, and the things they hadn’t said, and then that kiss…something twisted in her stomach at the memory of Nick’s mouth landing on hers, certain and close to desperate. She hadn’t realised how much she wanted him to kiss her until he was doing it, and then she wanted nothing more for the rest of her life. It was the embodiment of what she dreamed of; physical closeness and that demonstration of his desire for her. Much as she valued his chivalry, there was a lot to be said for someone willing to show their desire for you.

And then…something happened. If she didn’t know better, Diane would say that something spooked Nick. Something certainly changed, because only a second earlier she would have sworn he’d have willingly followed her inside. And yet he left, barely taking the time to speak before he left.

As she prepared for bed, Diane tried to figure out how she felt. She wasn’t hurt; it was more bewilderment, tinged with worry for Nick. Whatever had occurred to him must have been serious, to change things so quickly and completely. Was he alright? Diane glanced at her bedside phone before she pulled back the bedsheets, wondering if she should call him. But he’d said he would call tomorrow, and perhaps he needed those hours to think. Sort out whatever had occurred to him before he spoke to Diane again.

She sighed, wishing tonight more than ever that she had some help to get to sleep. Her mind would be replaying the evening for certain. At least she didn’t have to work tomorrow; if she fell asleep close to dawn, at least the extra hours of sleep would make it easier for her to deal with whatever the conversation with Nick brought her way.

+++

Diane was up when midday came around, showered and dressed and ready to receive visitors. Well, ready to receive Nick. She had no idea exactly what he meant by ‘I’ll be in touch,’ but in case he intended to come over in person, she wanted to be waiting. Never would she admit to any living soul that she’d changed the bedsheets and ensured the en-suite was perfectly clean. Just in case things ended up there.

Diane wouldn’t allow herself to hope for any particular outcome; that kind of thinking had kept her up for hours, so she had resigned herself to simply wait. He would be in touch – he was rarely late with his phone calls, and when he was there was always an apology and explanation ready. She sat at her kitchen table, the familiar curls of steam rising from the tea she was too anxious to drink. The déjà vu was strong, and when there was a knock at the door her stomach fluttered again. This time she knew what to expect. This time it would be Nick.

It wasn’t Nick.

The figure standing in front of her was familiar, though his delivery this time was in a large white box.

“Thank you,” she said faintly. He said something, but she was already turning, closing the door with her foot as she headed into the kitchen with the enormous box. The kitchen bench was the logical place, and she frowned as her clumsy fingers fumbled to open the ribbon. When they did, the lid fell from her hands as she revealed the contents.

Twelve perfect deep red roses lay nestled in the white tissue paper. Their stems were long, trimmed carefully and arranged within the box. Diane knew her mouth was hanging open at the beautiful display, and it took a moment before she searched for the card that must be present. There was only one person it could be, of course, but she had to know what message he was sending.

It was tucked under the bottom of the stems, the white envelope blending in with the tissue paper. Diane carefully extracted it, tearing the heavy paper in her haste to get it open. The design on the front was a simple pen drawing, two hearts entwined in the centre of the page. She stared at it, suddenly afraid to open it.

Finally, she did, blinking at the handwriting she now recognised at Nick’s.

_I couldn’t find the words yesterday. I hope this makes my intentions clear._

_I hope to hear from you today._

_With love,_

_Nick_

Diane couldn’t pull her eyes away.

_With love._

_Love._

In her mind, long stemmed red roses meant true love but Diane didn’t want to leave anything to chance. She could call…but this was important. Carefully, checked the florist’s sticker again, tucked the card into her purse and picked up her keys. There was only one person she could ask for help with this.

+++

“Hello, welcome to…oh!” The florist cut off her standard greeting when she saw – and clearly recognised – Diane. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Diane replied, trying to smile. “My name is Diane Grey-”

“I remember,” the florist said. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you about yesterday’s delivery.”

“It’s fine,” Diane said. “That’s not why I’m here.” She took a deep breath. “It’s today’s delivery, actually.”

The woman smiled, glancing over her shoulder at the deserted shop. “A dozen long stemmed red roses,” she said without consulting her book. “A rush order, specific delivery time.”

“Yes,” Diane agreed. “I just…I wonder if you can tell me what it means. Specifically.”

“What it means?” the florist said in surprise. “He wrote out a card, was it not…”

“It was there,” Diane hastened to assure her. “I don’t…I’m not sure if I’m understanding it right. What the flowers mean.” She huffed an embarrassed laugh. “I’m probably reading too much into it.”

“No, no,” the florist said. “As I said yesterday, he was very specific about the message he was trying to send. Both yesterday and today.”

Diane nodded, knowing she was flushing. This was far more embarrassing than any of her previous efforts to follow someone she thought was Nick, but it was far more important, too.

“Yesterday, you said love, and friendship and devotion,” Diane said, knowing she was paraphrasing the exact meanings.

“I did,” the florist said carefully.

“Your words or his?” Diane asked.

The florist looked at her, then stepped around the counter and over to the door. She turned the ‘open’ sign over, then headed back to the storeroom. “Do you want a coffee?” she asked. “I have a proper machine back here. It’s the only thing that gets me through the long days.”

“Sure,” Diane said in surprise. She waited while the sound of the coffee machine whirred and hissed, before the florist finally reappeared, two mugs of coffee in her hands.

“I don’t think I introduced myself,” she said, handing Diane one of the mugs. “I’m Lara.”

“Diane,” Diane replied automatically. “But I guess you know that already.”

“Yes,” Lara said. “Well, this is my shop, so if anyone’s going to break the rules, it’s gonna be me.” She grinned. “And I’ve gotta tell you, I’ve seen a bunch of men who think they’re in love. They order the fanciest arrangements, with the chocolates and the teddy bears, the single roses every day for a week…and don’t get me started on Valentine’s Day.”

Diane nodded, not entirely sure where this was going. Her heart had skipped a beat when Lara had mentioned love, but she daren’t interrupt.

“When your Nick walked in yesterday,” Lara said, “I think he looked at every arrangement in the shop before he spoke to me. He had a list in his hand, and the blush when he handed it over…that’s not a look I see every day.”

“What look?” Diane asked. She was barely breathing as Lara spoke.

“The look that says, ‘I have to tell her but I have no idea how,’” Lara said. “And before you ask, the list he gave me might as well have been titled, ‘the most romantic flowers in the world’.”

Diane frowned. “Were they all in that arrangement?” she asked in astonishment.

“Not all of them,” Lara said. “Some aren’t in season, and others I didn’t have in stock. He was adamant it needed to be delivered yesterday afternoon. So we talked about some alternatives, and he was very certain what it needed to say. As I told you yesterday, it was heavy on the romance.”

“Yes,” Diane whispered. She swallowed. “He took me out last night.”

“Romantic?” Lara asked with a grin, and she was somehow easy to talk to.

“Yes,” Diane admitted. “He took me to _Rosemary Wine_ and we shared dessert. Walked through the Arts Precinct afterwards.”

“And he walked you to your door and kissed you,” Lara finished with a grin.

“He did,” Diane said, feeling herself flush up to her eyebrows.

“And?” Lara asked.

“And then…he left,” Diane said. “And then I was alone.” Emotion rose in her, irrationally thickening her throat and she took a sip of coffee to hide it.

“He left?” Lara asked, her eyebrows high. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Diane replied.

Lara nodded thoughtfully, before snapping out of it. “Well, he was in here first thing this morning,” she said. “Said he’d pay whatever it cost, even if we had to send someone out to source them especially. For the dozen long stemmed roses. Red and perfect, he said. Very insistent.”

Diane nodded. “But…what does that mean?” she asked, and she was asking Lara as a florist, and also as a new friend. It was so long since she’d spoken to her own friends – since before Gander, really – and none of them knew the story like Lara did.

“The roses?” Lara asked. “Or the leaving?”

Diane stared at her. “Both?” she asked with a half-laugh.

“The roses are easy,” Lara said. “Long stemmed red roses are for love. Specifically romantic love. Long lasting, everlasting, deep…whatever phrase you prefer.”

Diane swallowed, nodding. That was what she’d thought, but having someone confirm it was…good. Good.

“The leaving?” Lara asked, and she sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “That could be more complicated. I mean, I wasn’t there, it depends on a lot of things, I think. And I don’t know him like you do…what do you think it means?”

“I think he thought of something,” Diane said. “Something that made him…panic.”

Lara nodded. She looked at Diane, thinking before she asked, “Was there a clue in the card?”

Diane fumbled in her bag before finding the card and handing it over. She was in this now, nodding when Lara looked at her for confirmation. Might as well give her all the information she could. How could this get any more embarrassing?

Diane watched Lara read the card, her shoulders sagging with understanding almost immediately. “Oh, Diane,” she said, a smile breaking over her face. “This is the card that came with the roses?” Diane nodded. “Honey, this makes it clear. But I just have to ask – has he told you he loves you yet?”

Diane shook her head.

“Well this is it, then,” Lara said, her tone suddenly fond and somehow admonishing. “Either he realised he loves you, or something else made him realise he needs to tell you right away. But he couldn’t find the words last night. That’s what made him run off. So instead he came here, ordered the most romantic thing he could think of, wrote this card,” she glanced at it again, “and from what I would guess, he’s waiting to hear from you right this very minute.”

“He is?” Diane whispered. All that information was a lot, and she was still trying to process it when Lara jumped up.

“Yes!” Lara said. “And I know exactly what you should do.”

“Really?” Diane asked. She had no idea.

“Well, hang on,” Lara said, turning back. “Do you love him?”

Diane nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

“Well then you need to talk his language, honey,” Lara said. “And from what I can gather, his language is flowers.”

“Flowers,” Diane repeated. “I can’t send flowers to a man.”

“Yes, you can,” Lara said without pausing. She handed Diane a card and a pen. “Get started on the message, I’ll put the arrangement together. I’ll run them over to him right away.”

Diane watched in shock as Lara gathered white gardenias, humming to herself. She looked down at the card – the same double hearts Nick had sent to her. What did she want to say?

_Dear Nick,_

_Thank you for the roses, they’re beautiful._

_I understand, and I hope you do too._

She hesitated, knowing what she wanted to offer but lacking the words. The words from a show she’d seen once rose in her mind, and she took up her pen again. _Don’t be afraid it won’t be perfect; just be afraid it won’t be._

_I would very much like to have you over this evening. My house, 7.30._

Her pen hovered before she added,

_It would not be presumptuous to bring an overnight bag._

_Love,_

_Diane_

She looked at the words, hardly able to believe she was going to send this. And to Nick.

“Done?” Lara asked.

Diane nodded, handing over the card for her to read. Lara’s eyes scanned the words, her eyebrows rising higher with each line until a burst of laughter escaped with the last one.

“Well there’s no way he can misinterpret that,” she said approvingly. “Good on you for being straight with him.”

Diane smiled uncertainly. “What do these symbolise?” she asked, pointing at the gardenias.

“Joy and old-fashioned, deep love,” Lara said. “I can see it in your eyes, honey.”

Diane nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “How much do I owe you for this?” she asked as Lara stuffed her card in the envelope and handed it to Diane to write Nick’s name on.

“Nothing,” Lara said. “Seriously, just come back when you want a wedding bouquet done. Actually, come back before that, I want to know how tonight goes.”

“Lara!” Diane admonished her.

“Not a whole lot of detail,” Lara said, “just…generally.”

“Thank you,” Diane said.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” Lara said. She grinned. “You’d better go make sure you’ve got clean sheets on the bed.”

“I already did,” Diane admitted, flushing hard when Lara let out a bark of laughter. She didn’t need to know it was part of the general need-to-do-something the previous day – but Diane was still pleased she’d done it.

“Go!” Lara said. “Have a great night tonight.”

+++

Diane hadn’t heard from Nick since the flowers had gone out. Lara had promised to deliver them to Nick personally, not to leave them at reception; she’d declared this too important to leave to one of her delivery drivers, and she wanted to see Nick’s face when he saw them. She’d pointed out Nick could ask her if he wanted to know the meaning of the flowers and Diane hid a grin. Clearly she wanted to be a part of this, and honestly, it was kind of fun to have someone to share it with.

Even if now she felt like she was going to be sick.

It was after seven, closer to seven thirty, and she was ready. Well, not internally, but there was a meal ready to go, drinks made, a house cleaned to within an inch of its life and a bedroom ready for…whatever it might need to be ready for. She’d visited the drug store, blushing as she made her purchases and absolutely not meeting the clerk’s eyes. It was certainly necessary, as far as she was concerned, and there was little option than to just grit her teeth and do it.

Why on earth was she so nervous? No answer had come to her, and now she sat, familiar mug with familiar steam, kitchen table hard under her elbows as she waited for Nick. It would definitely be him this time, not a delivery person or a phone call, but Nick. And not only Nick, but a Nick who knew she loved him, and who had been invited to stay overnight.

Diane’s mind supplied the ‘what if?’ scenarios again and she firmly pushed them aside as she had the previous fifteen times. It didn’t help, so she’d convinced herself into a zen state of just waiting, similar to this morning as she waited for some kind of communication.

Finally, the doorbell rang.

The walk down the hall took five times as long as usual.

The figure at the door was familiar.

Diane opened it, unable to manage even a proper smile, relieved that Nick looked equally uncertain as he stepped quietly inside. She noticed details, jumping out in the surreal moment. A spot of shaving cream below his ear, a crease in his shirt, the way his fingers flexed on the handle of his overnight bag. The nervous smile, the wariness in his eyes, the careful placement of the bag out of the way.

Diane’s heart pounded. She had no idea what to say. Did Nick think she looked nervous too? She certainly felt it, the conflicting emotions rolling through her too fast to focus on one at a time.

Her hand trembled as she closed the door behind him, turning to find him closer than she’d anticipated. This close she was assailed by even more. His cologne curled around her, enticing her closer. Without thinking, she stepped in and before she could blink he did the same, meeting her in the middle. Hands landed at the same time as their mouths met, the relief bursting through Diane as they kissed again. Last night had been the relief of two months of waiting; tonight felt no less intense, despite the time measured in hours instead of months.

They both moved desperately, pressing bodies close as their mouths moved together. This time Diane couldn’t bear the thought of Nick easing back, making some excuse and leaving, so she clung to him, pouring emotions into their kisses, hoping their meaning was clear to him.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind. Diane thrilled at the feel of his hand on the small of her back, holding her into his body; his other hand was buried in her hair. She could feel his fingers trembling, his breath uneven where it blew across her cheek. As he showed no signs of pulling back Diane relaxed into him. He was warm and solid beneath her hands as they roamed restlessly across his torso, one twisting into the lapel of his shirt as arousal swirled in her stomach.

Suddenly the layers of fabric were too much; she needed to be closer. Freeing her hand from his shirt Diane pushed at Nick’s jacket, hooking it over his shoulder, trying to lose it without having to stop kissing him. Finally he realised what she was trying to do and his hands shifted, pulling at it until it slid down his arms and dropped with a soft whump. Diane’s hands returned to him immediately, the heavy fabric’s absence making the contours of his body far easier to map. She could hear the little sounds he was making, surprised and breathless; each sparked in her, sending her confidence rising. He was holding her even closer now, lips tracing fire across her skin until his face was nestled into her neck.

“Oh,” Diane gasped as he nuzzled in there, hot mouth branding her. His shirt was inconvenient now, an unacceptable barrier between them, but the buttons were between their bodies and therefore inaccessible. She could hear herself panting Nick’s name and she tugged at his shirt, knowing it wouldn’t work but needed to do something. His hand had slipped up under the back of her camisole, skin pressing against skin, and it was like fire. She pressed closer, if that was even possible; at the same time one hand reached for the buttons at the base of his throat. It was beyond her current fine motor skills but she pulled anyway, restless with desire rolling through her veins.

“Nick,” she said finally, nervous energy adding to her racing heartrate. He slowed but didn’t remove his mouth from her neck; she couldn’t think straight with him there. “Nick,” she repeated herself, the gasp rising in her throat as he dragged his mouth up to her ear.

“Diane.” It was somewhere between a growl and a groan and the desire that had infused her body began to coalesce low in her abdomen.

“Upstairs,” Diane managed. One word would surely be enough; a whole sentence seemed so difficult somehow.

Nick paused then pressed another kiss, deep and wet, into her neck. His hands relaxed on her, sliding reluctantly free. She stepped back, taking his hand, head a little dizzy as space widened between them. As her eyes focused on him she wondered if she looked as wrecked as he.

Swollen lips, red and wet; his eyes were bleary and soft with arousal as they searched for hers.

“Come on,” she repeated. Thank goodness her body knew the way up the stairs; she was so aware of Nick she might not have been able to consciously navigate to her bedroom. As it was, it was barely a second in her mind before she was turning to Nick, heart pounding as he stepped into her bedroom.

She pulled him close, or maybe he pulled himself close; either way, her imagined moment of them tumbling onto her bed happened exactly as it had in her head.

 _Thank God I changed the sheets,_ she thought hazily as his mouth met hers once again, soft and slow and full of promise.

**Author's Note:**

> The show Diane saw was Stephen Sondheim’s ‘Company’. [Here is the glorious Raul Esparza singing ‘Being Alive’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBBPKedba5o).


End file.
